


Flores que embriagan

by alan713ch



Series: Waiting for the Darkness [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Death as a godmother, Episodic Fic, Gen, Magic of the Nemeton, Mexican Syncretism, also I included Noah from that Andrew Garfield as an Argent gif set, legends and folk tales, mexican mythology, no pairs because this episode didn't allow for any romance at all, scott mccall is a true alpha, we finally get to meet the judges, we finally get to see coach cupcake's real power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1839298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alan713ch/pseuds/alan713ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Judgement has begun</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Sorry for being so late!
> 
> As a matter of fact I've had the episode for a couple of weeks now, but I was waiting on some stuff. But after last night I felt like I had to post it immediately. 
> 
> As usual, THANKS FOR READING THIS FIC. It's a lot of work, so it's just an honor that you take some time of your life to read it. 
> 
> It involves huge themes of Mexican mythology of several tribes, even if the main one is the Nahuatl. It also includes a lot of my hometown (Durango) folk tales. 
> 
> If you just clicked on this fic because you thought it was cool, I need to mention that this is a huge fic in an episodic form. The Series is called Waiting for the Darkness. I suggest you start at the beginning. 
> 
> As usual, a billion thanks to my beta, lightningrani. Go read her fics on Lydia. 
> 
> If you have any questions on mexican mythology, history or geography, hit me up @ alan713ch.tumblr.com
> 
> And here we go!

"... and the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, John Stilinski, has refused to comment on the murder of Nina Patil, the young girl that was found in the middle of the local high school's lacrosse field last Friday. The strangest thing about this case is that according to numerous witnesses, the body just _appeared_ in the middle of the field, which of course cannot be possible since it would violate all the laws of physics!"

"I don't know, Stephen, there have been weirder murders of people of color and people would believe anything to remove the guilt from the murderers if they happen to be white folks..."

The boy chuckled at his laptop and adjusted his glasses. It was ridiculous, all the theories that were online regarding the murder of Beacon Hills, or 'The Sacrifice at Beacon Hills High', as people were prone to call it now. He'd been tempted of going online, hidden under several VPN's and a clever alias in order to post some of the _actual_ theories his family had but he knew better than that. Still, some of those people were outrageous.

A hard slap in the back of his head brought him back to reality.

"Ouch, mom!"

"Do not laugh, Noah. A girl is dead because of the supernatural: this is a tragedy, not a comedy."

"I wasn't laughing, I was chuckling! Besides, I wasn't laughing at her, I was laughing at how ridiculous some of the stuff online sounds."

"Still, you are an Argent. We honor those who are hunted. We hunt those who hunt them."

"Didn't Allie change the code or something? Wasn't that what Uncle Chris said in that huge ass long email he send last October?"

"Yes. That doesn't mean we should stop trying to make the world a better place. We should be able to prevent events such as this. That's why we are always on the lookout."

"Yeah, well, that sounds like keeping an eye on a child because he might trip. Not exactly efficient."

"But at least very good at keeping people alive. How's your grandfather?" She finally put down the huge bag she was carrying - a bag Noah knew was full of weapons. Judging by the size, she had needed the AK47 - what was required to kill a wendigo, again?

"The same. Still leaking that black goo. Still staring at that mirror all the time. I don't even know what he sees there - or if he's actually seeing anything there."

"We know that his mind has been addled because of what he went through. We can't always trust for him to be there."

"I know, which makes me wonder if we should trust him whenever he's spewing vile against my cousin?"

"Those had clearly been moments of lucidity. Besides, everything he's said has agreed with Christopher's new behavior."

"Uncle Chris is not protecting werewolves. He's just changing strategies!" He actually remembered the whole email - sent to all of the Argents, not just the matriarchs like his mom. It had been a call to actually protect those who had been victims and might be affected - such as werewolves that were turned against their will - and not just go rampage on anything that might be separate from the standard humanity. He still remembered when he had had to kill a little kid just because his mom was a succubus and therefore fed on lust and desire - even if all she did was to work as a stripper, having learned to fulfill her needs without killing her victims. They just left the club with the weirdest high they would ever feel, and as far as he knew, she refused doing personals for someone more than once, perfectly aware of the addictive nature of her powers.

Since the kid would be an incubus when he grew up, he had to die, according to Noah's dad.

"And we are seeing that said strategy is not working. Aren't they supposed to have contacted all the creatures in Beacon Hills? Aren't supposedly all the creatures under their records?"

"Mom, let's be real. We don't even know what caused that."

"A witch, definitely."

"They already dealt with witches, and they got all of them arrested."

"Arrested, not killed."

"Mom!"

His mother just sighed. "I know it's hard for you to see it right now, but we are just looking to make the world a safe place for everybody."

"I feel like I'm living in a George Orwell novel."

His mother smiled. At least she was proud that he kept up with his readings.

The moment was interrupted by her cellphone ringing. She frowned at it, but answered it - on speaker, so Noah could hear too.

"Yes, Greg?"

"Laurel. I'm reporting back."

"Did you find Guy?"

"Yes and no."

"What do you mean?"

"So I came here posing as an archaeologist, remember?"

"You are an archaeologist, Greg, it is your major."

"Yeah, yeah - but it's not like I can sell it perfectly when I start spouting weapon trivia. Anyways, they wanted me to check on a mummy that was found in the middle of Beacon Hills. We said I was going to check on Guy since he stopped communicating, right?"

"Yes. Where is he?"

"Well, that's the thing. He's the mummy."

"What?" Noah couldn't help but feel excited - that was completely new territory for him. "How?"

"Noah, is that you? Are you listening in?"

"Mom put you on speaker phone."

"It's true, Greg. Any way to explain the mummification?"

"No. That's the thing. I don't know. It's like he's suddenly at least a thousand years old. Even the clothes degraded. This would be a good science experiment for Justin - how does polyester looks after a thousand years."

"Greg..."

"Sorry, digressing. The things is, the mummy is Guy. I did the dentals and everything."

"But why did it took so long to identify him?"

"He had no ID and no documents on him, no wallet, nada. I also couldn't find the family crest."

"You think someone messed with the body before mummifying him?"

"Maybe. Whoever did it didn't want anybody to know it was him. If it hadn't been me here they may have not even identified him, since he was running on a false identity and stuff."

"We'll need you to find a reason to stay with the FBI agent."

"I'm seeing what I can do, but we definitely need more people here. This town is..."

"A mess?"

"A Beacon. There are lots of things here. And they are all coexisting. That doesn't make sense to me."

"What do you mean coexisting, Uncle Greg?"

"So far I've seen a werewolf and a banshee hanging out together, when we know the fae don't like wolves that much. I've seen witches, mediums, sirens, all talking to each other like they are just humans. Bar those two situations, literally nothing has happened in this town since last November, and that's when the population numbers rose like bread in the oven. There's almost no crime - except for a drunkard that loves to drive into the streetlights. This town doesn't make sense."

"We'll see how to get more people there. We need to get an opening to have them in the same team as the McCall agent. And we don't want the FBI suspecting of our influence."

"Got it. How was the hunt of the wendigo?"

"It was alright. He was posing as a prominent psychiatrist, that's what made it hard to get him without raising suspicion. We had to fake a robbery, even if the shot had to be performed from the rooftop."

"As long as you don't get more hounds after you, Laurel - everybody knows you are the good shot with the Argent surname."

"I erased my tracks this time."

"Alright, I'll call you guys later. Noah, do your homework."

"Yes, Uncle Greg."

The phone went dead.

"You already finished your homework, didn't you?"

"Like an hour ago. I've been playing with some data I got from Google's API to see if I can do a mapping of supernatural incidents."

"Those things won't show up in the news?"

"Well, look at Beacon Hills, Mom. But no - I'm more interested in people using particular search queries. I intend to cross reference them with our on databases of confirmed cases and see where things match."

"Alright. Remember to take dinner to your grandpa."

"Sure mom."

Noah switched to the statistics window he had opened. He was getting a lot into the big data stuff, and was glad to see he could apply it to hunting. Actually, he wanted to build a database of points with supernatural activity to see if he could visit them and actually explore supernatural cultures, but he was not going to tell his mom that.

He kept at it for another hour and then saved everything. He went to the kitchen and prepared his grandpa's meal, something that included a lot of soft and drinkable things since he could barely chew due to the pain on his bones. At least he was not on bath duty - getting rid of those diapers full of the black goo was horrible.

He didn't even bother to knock anymore. He knew he'd find him staring at the full size mirror he had requested in one of his brief moments of lucidity. He just went inside and got close to him.

"Grandpa. Grandpa."

The old man was gone inside that mirror, all his attention devoid to it.  

"Gerard Argent!"

At the sound of his name, the old man blinked a couple of times and turned his head to the kid.

"Noah? You are Noah. Laurel's son."

"Yes, grandpa. Come on, you need to eat."

"You look like me. Which is odd, since Laurel is the daughter of my third cousin once removed."

"Spatial genetic multiplicity." Noah loved throwing Sci Fi terms at his grandfather, since he never recognized them. Sure enough, the man frowned at him, like he couldn't understand. "Come on, grandpa, dig in. Let me get you a bit back so you won't spill on the mirror."

"No, no - don't."

"Alright - then let me cover it."

"No!" The man was angry at him for even suggesting it.

"Yeesh, fine. What do you see in this thing anyways? We picked it at TJ Maxx for ten bucks." Noah looked into the mirror, trying to see what his grandfather saw in it. He found nothing.

"You are too young to understand what I see there. Memories."

"It's not a magic mirror grandpa."

"It's not magic. It's that it allows me to see _myself_."

"Whatever. Come on, eat up." Noah always had to wait until his grandpa was done - it could be hours at the time, lost in that mirror. He got his cellphone out and started another Candy Crush game.

An hour later, the man was no longer eating, just staring in the mirror.

"Grandpa, you done?"

"What? Yes, yes. Take it."

"OK."

Noah went and grabbed the tray. He wanted to feel pity for the man, but he wasn't sure he could after all he had heard about him. Still, he was family, wasn't he?

He went and grabbed his shoulder, trying to give him some comfort.

What he encountered was a man as cold as stone.

"Grandpa, are you OK?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Remembering. Go, please."

"Alright."

Noah left the room with a last glance at the mirror. What he saw made him shiver.

For a second, his grandpa's reflection's eyes had been a cold, dead green.

 

 


	2. Scott

The door closed softly on its own behind her. Scott's lip trembled, but he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat.

" _Madrina_. Welcome."

She smiled again, and walked towards him. She cupped his cheek and kissed him, once on each side.

"Hello, Scott." Scott knew she was talking in Spanish, but he understood her perfectly. "Sorry for being so late, but there was some stuff I needed to do. Besides, like I told you this morning, I couldn't do anything for you until I was properly welcome."

"It had to be mom. She had to be the one to welcome you. That's why you insisted in meeting with her."

"So _you are_ his godmother, Miss Murrieta?" The woman nodded at Stiles, who proceeded to flail in his usual manner. "That's it, I am not talking to a school counselor never again."

"Stiles!" His mom, the Sheriff and even Lydia managed to slap him in the back of his head.

"Ouch! That hurt!" Scott looked at his godmother, afraid of retribution, but all she did was laugh at his best friend's antics.

"My godson, The Risen King.” Her eyebrows rose, and Scott felt again like he was being evaluated. “Well met. Shall we sit? Or you rather we stay standing?"

"No - please, come in. The living room should accommodate all of us. I think." His pack trickled down inside. Scott saw that they were still defensive - and when Sebastiana grabbed him by the arm both Allison and Isaac cringed. He, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel _relaxed_ around this woman. He hadn't felt like that when she had been counseling him regarding math.

"So, dear, how are you? And I won't take _fine_ for an answer - I hate that it's become the standard answer everywhere and nobody talks about anything anymore." She asked as they sat on one of the love seats that were in the room, full of cushions and sofas.

"That depends on where in the space-time continuum you want me to answer, since you are an omniscient being?" Sebastiana laughed again.

"Clever words. Has your Fool rubbed on you?"

"Don't look at me," Stiles retorted, "that's something Lydia would say!"

"Stiles!" The girl shot the boy a glance that could've killed him. But Sebastiana laughed again, and this time both Scott and Melissa laughed with her. Even the Sheriff had chuckled a little. Scott wanted the tension to leave the room, but he knew he could not ask his pack to trust the Angel of Death blindly. Hell, he knew he shouldn't.

"Well, I'm a werewolf, somehow I became an alpha, that made me responsible for a Sanctum so powerful people are flocking here just to feel it, and I am supposed to be judged on it. Oh, and I have a pack that is quite big, thanks to the latest additions which were your presents. A werewolf hunter died on my watch, and a young girl was offered as a sacrifice to the god that is here to see if I'm going to go power crazy with the Nemeton. No, I'm not fine."

"Gods."

"What?"

"Gods. It's not one who is going to judge you. It's four."

"Four?" Scott knew his eyes were not the only ones wide in terror.

"They are brothers, and they are always together, no matter how much they bicker and fight among themselves. They are the gods your ancestors worshipped, even if you don't know them anymore."

"Why?"

"Because they live in your blood. The same way I do. The same way I live in your mother's blood."

"So these particular deities are here because of Scott. Why were you here when you judged the Hales?" Derek asked the woman. She turned her eyes on him, far more serious than when they looked at Scott.

"You really don't know your family history, do you, Little Knight? What about you, Little Girl?" Cora shook her head, a question in her eyes. "I'm afraid I can't tell you. Those are the secrets of the Hales, and if they were lost in the fire, they are not for me to tell." Derek hung his head and Cora let hers rest on his shoulder. "I do have a message from your mother, Little Knight." Derek raised his head again, eyes curious. "She says she's proud you are taking the uniform, and that she's happy you are finally settling in a new pack. Same for you, Little Girl." Scott saw the tear coming from both of his pack members, but it was a tear tinged with happiness. They both nodded at her and she turned her attention back to Scott.

"So, what should I call you? Godmother? Sebastiana? Miss Murrieta?"

"Sebastiana is fine, unless we are at school. There I am still Miss Murrieta."

"Excuse me, Sebastiana?" The Sheriff interrupted.

"Yes, Sir Knight?"

"Call me John, please. I thought you said you didn't want to have a personal conflict of interest when we talked about Scott."

"I lied."

"Oh. You can do that?"

“I can lie to everyone and everything but _mi comadre_ and Scott.”

"Wait, when did you talk about me?"

"When you needed a parental permission to take my class."

"So the class is fake?" Isaac asked and for the first time in their conversation, Sebastiana looked offended.

"Excuse you, Mr. Lahey! I am very invested in your education - I would not deign myself to teach you lies and deceptions!" Isaac opened his eyes wide at the woman's expression. In the blink of an eye, she was smiling again.

"Why math?" Lydia asked.

"Because math, just like me, is the same for everyone. Every language. Every culture. No one can escape it, just like no one can escape me."

"Why are you here, Sebastiana?" Lydia asked again, and now the woman's expression was more solemn.

"I made a promise seventeen years ago. That this boy here would live until his old age. I failed."

"I'm alive."

"But we died, Scott." Allison reminded him. "We died when we sacrificed ourselves. When we chose to protect the Nemeton - just so we could know where it was."

"That was basically the moment I failed, yes, and I couldn't put my duties away anymore. I wanted to come as your godmother immediately, but you had summoned me as the Angel of Death, and as such I came.

"I saw your trials. All three of them. And that's when I finally realized the complexity of what was going on in this little town. I never would have thought I had to come back."

"You thought the Hales would always protect it." Cora mused.

"Yes. And even when I was here harvesting the souls of your family, I assumed Laura would take her place as the Alpha Hale and continue their work. I hadn't seen what it really meant, the slaughter of your family, until I came back a few years later, when my godson cried in the night, his soul ripped apart by the Queen's pet."

As if summoned, Peter appeared behind Lydia, a haughty visage on his face.

"Mongrel."

"My lady." He may had been smiling, but Scott knew not to trust that smile.

"Please, you don't mean it."

"And yet I am bound to say it. After all I have to honor you as much as I have to honor my mistress."

Sebastiana's smile scared Scott for a second. It was... dark. Wicked.

"What do you mean?" Lydia asked, and Sebastiana turned her smile to her. Again, not beatific like it had been before. But now it was... playful. Crooked.

"You still don't know who you are, do you, Lydia?" Sebastiana rose and Scott with her, even if he didn't move as the woman approached the girl. Lydia stood up too. The difference between them was great, yes, but for a moment they seemed to be one and the same.

"My Queen of Ghosts. I'd wish you took up your mantle sooner rather than later. My Godson would do well to have your help."

"What do you mean, my mantle?"

"That is for you to find out, my dear."

"You called me a queen. I'm a banshee."

"Dear, if you were a banshee, this sack of fleas would not be alive."

"What do you mean?" Allison had moved to guard Lydia and was looking warily at Scott's godmother.

"Not my secret to tell."

"You are toying with us."

"It's not like I can do much."

"What can you do, godmother?"

"Help."

"Answer questions?" Lydia asked.

"Some."

"Well, telling us what is going on would be a good one to answer!" Danny spoke and everybody was surprised at the light shrill his voice had. And more at his blanching when she turned to him.

"You are being judged. But you are aware of that."

"All of us? Or just, you know, them three?"

"Thing is, you are all part of Scott now."

"The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack." Derek recited, an old mantra leaving his lips.

"Exactly. And all of you have accepted to be part of Scott's pack." Danny nodded. "What are you afraid of, Moon Singer?"

"Dying."

"No, you are not. You are afraid of me."

"I'm afraid of what you can do. You are an angel, a goddess of death. We are supposed to revere you."

"Another form would definitely want you to do that. Honestly, I'm not that bad. And it's not like I'm the first deity you guys talk to."

"What?" Everybody asked, even their parents.

"Well, the judges are already onto you."

"Who are they?"

"Can't tell."

"Can't tell or won't tell?"

"Can't, Mr. Lahey. I do have a personal conflict of interest in this trial. Anything I do can be seen as an interference, so any help I give you I need to do it with caution."

"You care for Scott." Derek looked

"Of course I do. Have you seen him? He's a little ray of sunshine." Sebastiana looked at Stiles who immediately started making faces at her. Scott frowned at them.

"Wait, back up - the judges have contacted us?"

"Of course. I mean, their full potential has just been awakened with the sacrifice of young Nina. However, they have had a physical form since you awakened the Nemeton. They've been around for a while now."

"When did they get here?"

"The same night I did. The night I took young Richard with me."

 

 


	3. Finstock

Bobby had never been a morning person, not since he was a jock in high school. He had always preferred to pull all nighters, party out on the weekends, and when life started taking a toll on him, stay up reading on new sports strategies, and designing new workout routines. He had looked into the whole Movnat programs lately, thinking that it would be good for all the werewolves in his team to train in a way that involved more moving like the animals that coexisted inside of them rather than move the same weight up and down. For the past couple of weeks he had been working on a proposal that would let him ask the school board for some money to get some equipment, such as gymnastic rings and peg boards. He had also started going through the running trail again, looking at how he could use it to train the teenagers.

He had to admit that ever since the Nemeton had been fully restored, he had more energy, he was more willing to wake up early and he didn't feel like he needed to shout at everybody to get things done now. Not that he had stopped, but it just didn't feel needed anymore.

He also could breathe more easily since the semester had begun. Well, when he was not in a state of panic because dead bodies were appearing in the middle of his field.

He was going through hell with the State Lacrosse League about that. Since it was an ongoing investigation they wanted to ban Beacon Hills from playing, but he was fighting to keep it to only not host any more games until the crime was satisfactorily resolved. With such a broad definition he knew he would not be able to meet whatever standard the board would cook up but he had to try. One of the few things he had in his life was to see those guys celebrate having won a big game, and the exhilaration that it brought them.

He didn't have Richard anymore.

He knew he was gone, even if he didn't know why. He knew he actually _did_ know, but it had been lodged away. He knew he had encountered something so great his brain was not able of processing it. And somehow he knew that had been what had taken Richard away. But it was OK. Weirdly.

He opened the door to his office and started working on what he had planned for the day. He needed to work on his lesson for the sophomores, and he wanted to check his training plan for the varsity team. He needed to balance the team - it had been pretty obvious that McCall and his pack were a unit, and that created a disbalance with the other members of the team. He needed to bring _all_ of them together.

Also, he needed to find out how to prevent cultists from hijacking their games and turning them into sacrificial altars.

He knocked the radio that he kept in there for some background white noise when he worked. It had been humming lately, a faint buzz that distracted him, but he hadn't had time to buy a new one on Amazon. His Prime subscription was down and he doubted a lot of UPS workers wanted to get into town after what had happened. Maybe he'd go to the thrift store and check if they had a decent one. He had thought of bringing his laptop to work but wasn't so keen on it - he liked to keep a barrier between work and home, and bringing the laptop in would mean blurring the line. So he just smacked it again and dialed trying to get a station.

One of the nice things of being Coach was having his office a little divorced from the rest of the staff. It prevented him from lashing out onto his colleagues (though most of them were used to it) and it forced those who wanted to talk to him to actually _seek him out_ , preventing any idle chit chat that would only disrupt his day.

Today was one of those days, when he was sought out. By one of the new kids actually.

“Coach?”

Bobby looked up and he knew something was wrong with the kid. He just couldn’t tell what.

“What is it, Carvallo?”

“I am not feeling alright. I was wondering if I could skip practice today?”

“What? What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, just some side effects from my medication. I’ll - I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“What medication?”

The kid - Diego, if he recalled correctly - just motioned at his body and Bobby remembered.

“It’s alright. Go home. Have your brother take you if you need.”

“I already called my parents. Thanks, Coach - appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Bobby went back to his paperwork, checking on some stuff he needed for his class. He got it ready, packed his stuff and moved towards the classroom.

He stopped at the door. There was a red blot on the floor, a few steps from the entrance. He squatted and felt the thickness between his fingers.

_Blood_.

“What the…”

He smelled it, but couldn’t detect anything from it. Neither from the color, and he was smart enough not to taste it. Some creatures could enslave you from digesting their blood. He grabbed a napkin, absorbed as much as possible and put it on a glass after he threw the water away - staining the files on his desk. It didn’t matter.

Nobody cared that he was carrying a glass around the school - he had done weirder stuff. But it surprised him that nobody was complaining about the buzzing on the school sound system.

It was so loud he wasn’t looking where he was going, and crashed on Sebastiana.

“Oh my God I did not see you, I am so sorry!”

“It’s alright, Bobby, I wasn’t paying too much attention either.” He immediately got down and helped her with her stuff, which got him a smile. But when he smiled back, he saw too many teeth and backed down almost immediately.

“Thanks - wait, your glass! Why are you carrying a napkin in it?” She seemed genuinely interested, but he just shrugged - she’d have to get used to his tics.

“I’ll see you around, Sebastiana. Wait, you wouldn’t happen to know what class is Mr. McCall taking right now?”

“He just left mine, so I believe he has lunch right now. Why?”

“I need to discuss some things with him regarding the lacrosse team.”

“How’s that coming? How’s the League treating you?”

“Like crap, as I expected. At least they are not suspending us. But it’ll be hell to be back in their good graces.”

“Let me know if I can help. I don’t know if I can do much, but it would be good to try.”

“Yeah, a letter from the counselor saying the kids are not psycho would help a lot.”

“We don’t use _psycho_ anymore, Bobby. Too many bad connotations with the word.”

“Oh.” Sebastiana walked away and Bobby stood there, thinking about what she had said. Shaking his head he went to the cafeteria where sure enough, the whole McCall wolf pack was eating.

“McCall!”

_All_ their heads rose up at the same time. He found it unnerving. An opening between Martin and Stilinski was made for him, so he had no option but to sit in between them. Like it would not be awkward to have a teacher sitting with the students.

“McCall, what is - wait, you all look happy. Why is that?”

“We got good news last night, Coach. What’s up?” Stilinski was the one to talk. Everybody else just looked at him.

Bobby put the glass on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Er, a napkin?” Lahey answered.

“No - the blood on it.”

“What blood?” McCall grabbed the glass and tilted it. Bobby was seeing the red stain creep capillarily through the white, but McCall squinted. Then sniffed. “I don’t see nor smell any blood, Coach.”

“Danny, you said you were a moonsinger and you were trying to see the Carvallos. Do you see something?” The kid closed his eyes and when he opened them, they were moonlight silver.

“Yeah - there is something. It’s faint though, like it’s hidden or something. Stiles, do you see anything?”

“What - why would I - oh, wait, yeah…”

“Why do you see it and none of us do?” The Martin girl asked.

“Well, moonlight is a revealer of truth since it dispels the shadows. The light in the night.”

“And I’ve been seeing shit since the Nemeton.”

“You all should be able to see it! You are bound to the Nemeton, McCall, accept its powers!” Nobody in the cafeteria but the table where he was sitting paid attention to him. They were all used to his outbursts.

McCall closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them they were shining rubies, and Bobby could see the magic rippling around him.

The Risen King.

“I see it now.” McCall put his hands on the table, and Bobby suddenly started seeing all the magic in these kids. The Crossroad’s Fool. Selene’s Daughter. The Singer of the Moon. The Wolf with a Home. He could see them, all of them looking at the glass - aware of the blood in it.

The Queen of Ghosts.

“Coach? Where did you find it?”

“My office.” The Martin girl looked like the counterpart of McCall. A crown on her head. A green dress. A cloak lined with black feathers. Pale like a ghost, hair like flames in the distance.

“Coach? Why are you looking at me?”

“Sorry - McCall unleashed your powers. I’m seeing your True Forms.”

“What?” The alpha blinked a couple of times, and Bobby saw the power dispel. “I can’t see it anymore.”

“So we need to access the power of the Nemeton to see it. Did you smell it? Did you recognize the smell?” Argent was looking at McCall intensely, the same way Lahey did.

“No. It smelled… like a field. Like a cornfield. And ash.”

“Mountain ash?”

“No. Actual ash, like from a fire.”

“A burnt cornfield?”

“Coach, it was just in your office?” Martin turned to him, and he saw McCall texting someone about it.

“Yes. I was just filing some stuff and when I left for my class… My class!” Bobby got up immediately and tried to find the rascals in his classroom, running in the hallway, his steps echoing on top of the buzzing. Of course, it being almost twenty minutes, they were gone. “Damn it.”

“Everything alright, Coach?” Another of the Carvallo kids, the tall skinny one, stopped in the middle of the hallway, cellphone in hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I just forgot I had a class. Did you check on your brother? Apparently he needed to go home.”

“Yeah, Huey is with him. The third one.” Bobby looked at him. “I know most people can’t keep all of us straight so I always remind them.”

“But you are all adopted. None of you even look alike.”

“But everybody knows we have the same last name, and you guys pay a lot of attention to that. Evening, Coach.” The kid just started walking and playing on his phone again.

For a moment, Bobby thought he saw feathers on his clothes. They were gone in a blink.

He moved to ask him about them.

The buzzing on the speakers became so loud he was sure his ears would bleed.

 

 


	4. Christopher

“So, tell me more! Don’t be such a downer, I finally get to meet you after seventeen years, there must be stuff you can tell your godmother!”

Christopher kept looking at the whole pack - they were all still in a tense mode, even if they had started to let go a little bit. Scott and Melissa were definitely relaxed, and John and Stiles were loosening up; his own daughter and her boyfriend were a little bit too protective of their alpha; the rest of the pack was looking at the angel, still on edge.

“Well, I play lacrosse. I’m trying to get into vet school.” Sebastiana just waved her hand at him.

“I already know that - I am your counselor after all.” Scott blinked at her, like not knowing what she meant. Chris knew that tone of voice - it was the same all the Argents used when talking about their progeny.

Maybe it was the tone of voice all the families used when wanting to know about those they had missed.

“He has a knack to get into trouble, though I believe that’s mostly because he tends to follow Stiles, when it should be the other way around.” John answered her. Stiles looked at his father like he wanted to force feed him tofu for the next twenty years, while the Sheriff only raised his eyebrows as if contesting the challenge.

“It’s not like I never got Stiles into trouble. There’s the Sugar Skull inci -”

“WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT THE SUGAR SKULL INCIDENT!” Both Melissa and Stiles interrupted Scott in a thunderous voice. All the teenagers in the pack looked at their alpha with eyebrows frowned, mouths slightly ajar, except for Cora who turned to Derek and asked him what a sugar skull was. John just started laughing, first slowly, but like a boiling pot the laughter erupted out of him. “Trust me, Sebastiana, you don’t need to know.” Melissa addressed the angel of Death.

“Oh, but comadre, now I am curious. Maybe later will Scott tell me.”

“Excuse me, Miss Murrieta?” Erica asked, her voice barely distinguishable from the laughs John was still burping out. “Why this?”

“I am a godmother still, Erica. You should know this. Or are you telling me that the tears your Aunt Margarita cried during your funeral were just for show?”

“She was just a human, you are an abstract concept out of time and space.”

“I am an embodiment of human beliefs, Erica. I am but one form that Death takes, and this is a joyous, _alive_ form. My dear Queen over there is a much more thunderous and mischievous one, but if she’s here it’s because it conveniences her. No - I can’t answer. It would be like talking about myself and I _loathe_ doing that.” Lydia had opened her mouth but closed it when she realized her questions would remain unanswered.

However, Christopher was starting to think Sebastiana was being very clear about who Lydia may be, and if his train of thought was correct, he needed to go talk to Alan Deaton immediately.

They already knew that the Martins were fae, but if she was host to the Phantom Queen, that meant that a great war was about to happen. That the judgement would spill over all of Beacon Hills and not remain concealed to just them.

“Cora?”

“Yes, Mr. Argent?”

“I was wondering if you could help me get some sweets out of the fridge? We should break bread with our guest here.” Cora raised her eyebrows but stood up and started walking towards the kitchen. “Anything in particular you would like, Sebastiana?”

“Oh, whatever is on your fridge will be fine.” Chris nodded and walked towards the kitchen. He closed the door - he was sure she’d hear, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to communicate the pack his train of thought.

“Mr. Argent? What is it?”

“I know you are the youngest but if I called Derek, Scott would get suspicious, and I rather explore this line of thought a little before I tell him. Has your family dealt with fae before?”

“No. Not that I remember. My grandma did teach us a lot of the rules but Lydia hasn’t broken one - she’s kept them surprisingly well, as far as I recall. Why?”

“What do you know of the Morrigan?”

“Don’t say that name out loud!”  Chris looked at her. “She’s fond of listening. And she’s not exactly the greatest fae around.”

“Alright. But are there ways to notice her presence? Signs, omens, something?”

“I mean, there are the animals that are associated with her - the crow, the stag, the wolf. She’s associated with banshees - because of the one legend where she disguised as one to gain the favor of a warrior. There are other legends, true, but she’s very sneaky. If she doesn’t want to be detected she won’t be. Why? What is making you think of her?”

“The way Sebastiana keeps referring to Lydia. I think she’s trying to tell us something.”

“I don’t understand, if she’s a goddess of death, shouldn’t she be able to do whatever she wants?”

“Gods are bound by beliefs, Cora. This form may be powerful, but it’s still constrained to what it is believed of her.”

“Still, she’s death. She can kill anything.”

“She doesn’t kill. Kill is an act with intent. Kill is something that someone does. Dying is something that happens. Sometimes you die because you are killed. Sometimes you die just because it was your time to die.”

“That… makes her sound like she’s just there.”

“In a sense, she just is.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You’ve been going to the library with Erica and Boyd. Look for books on the fae, on the… on her, and what would usually draw her to a place. Also, look for stuff on your family - I want to know if she was here before.”

“Why?”

“Because if Sebastiana is preparing us for war, I’d like to know against what we are fighting.”

“Shouldn’t we devote our resources to the gods she mentioned?”

“Lydia, Stiles and Danny are into it. We need to be able to protect all our sides.”

“Alright. Now, what sweets are we going to offer Sebastiana?”

“I have no idea.”

Chris opened the fridge, which was full of cakes and pastries and skulls that seemed to be made of sugar.

“Er, when did our fridge got so much stuff?”

Cora just shrugged and grabbed some of the sweets to bring to the others. He did the same.

They found them laughing, most of the members of the pack more relaxed now.

“Oh, sugar skulls! When did we buy sugar skulls?” Stiles launched himself after the candies on Cora’s hand, Melissa looking at Sebastiana with an eyebrow raised while the woman - goddess, angel - smiled brightly. Both Scott and the Sheriff grabbed Stiles by the arms, preventing him from reaching the sweets.

“Stiles, no.”

“We do not need _another_ sugar skull incident.”

“I was seven! I could get sugar highs still!”

“I get the feeling that you can still get sugar high, Stiles.” Lydia told him, earning her a glare that she answered with a wink and a smile. She grabbed one of them, and turned to Melissa. “This has my name on it?”

“They all should. Part of the tradition, the skulls are named.”

“Yeah, here’s mine, and Boyd’s, and Isaac’s - definitely everyone’s. Look! Scott’s got little red eyes!” Erica was helping distribute the sweets. “What are these?”

“Mueganos. Basically popcorn stuck together with caramel.”

They all kept talking about the sweets, with both Melissa and Sebastiana explaining what were most of them and in the case of some, how to eat them. They all kept Stiles away from the sugar skulls, though he seemed content on eating the pastries.

Still, Chris kept looking at Sebastiana. It was his job to ensure there was always someone on alert. Even if it had to be him.

Sebastiana noticed, and motioned to the kitchen. He saw that Derek and Scott noticed, but after the young one nodded, he followed the trail left by the lilies in her dress.

“Lord Keeper.”

“My Lady in White. I hope you feel welcomed.”

“I do, thank you.” Her hands were suddenly busy in a vase of flowers, the same lilies that had been adorning her dress. She was making sure they were standing up, and wet her hands in the sink in order to give the petals a touch of dew.

“I am sorry for my coldness towards you, but it is my job, as the Keeper of the Ways.”

“Oh, I know.” She still wouldn’t look at him, too focused on the flowers. “Just like it was your job to kill my godson just a year ago.” Chris felt the change in the atmosphere immediately. Even if nothing was noticeable, he could feel the weight of the air heavy against his throat.

“You are judging me.”

“I’m getting to know you. I’ve got to meet all of the members of his pack but you.”  
“Erica, Cora, Boyd?”

“The Girl with Fire and the Silent Warrior were mine to give. The Little Girl Under the Pelt and the Dark Knight are twins of each other, and I met the Knight when he decided to give Scott a reason for his failing grades. The one that was missing was you.” She finally raised her head to meet his eyes, and even though she was smiling he felt he was looking at a skull, empty eye sockets and a grin full of teeth willing to rip him apart.

“Yes, I did. I thought he was a menace that needed to be eradicated. I thought he was after my daughter. I was blinded by the ways my family behaved. He proved me wrong.”

“He did, didn’t he?” She walked around the island to get close to him, her appearance again joyous and welcoming. “He _is_ a little ray of sunshine, or that’s how Stiles sees him. If he only knew.” She got close to him and straightened his collar and brushed his hair, the same way Victoria used to do when they were young and newlyweds. They both looked at the pack, who were enjoying the food that Chris now knew was a gift from the woman in front of him. Subtly, almost in the blink of an eye, Chris noticed Scott looking at them, making sure they were alright. “He keeps an eye on you.”

“I know. He cares too much.” Chris sighed, and looked at Sebastiana again. “That’s what’s gonna kill him.”

“You are not wrong. He still doesn’t understand that he can’t do it all. That he can’t protect everyone. That sometimes each one ought to protect themselves. But you do know, don’t you?”

“My Lady?”

“You are on the right track. Keep working on it - what my godson is about to face will consume him, and he will be vulnerable. I still don’t know what the crow intends to do here, and even if she’s already pledged her allegiance to him I’m still wary. Be prepared.”

“Will do, My Lady.”

“Oh, and Christopher?”

Sebastianna handed him a sugar skull. It had fondant red lines for hair, and the adamantine eyes were steel gray. The name on its forefront brought a smile to his face.

Victoria.

“She still loves you. But she knows that you need to be happy.”


	5. The Sheriff

He guided her slowly back to the mattress. He always preferred when she was on top, to let her take control and make sure she satisfied her needs. His were usually at lot less.

Just like it had been with Claudia.

“That was good, wasn’t it?” Melissa asked him, her voice still a little faint from the efforts.

“It was fantastic.”

“I have to admit, having finally understood that Sebastiana is not after Scott… I feel a lot more relaxed. And that she’s here to help… maybe it won’t be so bad, don’t you think?”

“Mel, you know how these things work. You probably just jinxed it.”

“Oh, don’t be a downer!”

“Hey, trying to be a realist.” He chuckled while she smacked him under the covers. He went to spoon her and they just stayed there, resting. “Besides, we have to deal with Rafe tomorrow. We need to tell him that his son’s godmother was the one to off one of his agents.”

“And a hunter. It’s odd, that she did it just because he was messing with Scott.”

“Are you wondering if she would’ve snuffed Peter just because he was willing to bite Scott?”

“Maybe? The woods tell me that someone would’ve been hurt anyways. Maybe Stiles, and well, we don’t know how would that have turned out.

“Stiles? A werewolf? I shudder at the thought.”

He heard Melissa’s soft chuckle but it slowly devolved into calm breathes, her chest moving up and down slowly, like the rocking of a boat in a calm sea. He let himself drift in those waters, hoping to avoid responsibilities for a night.

He dreamt of ravens landing on all the roofs of Beacon Hills, looking at the school. When he woke up he didn’t know what to make of it.

Their morning didn’t have any bumps - the children got ready for school, Derek went to the Police Academy and Chris took Cora, Erica and Boyd to the library. Melissa’s shift didn’t begin until 1:00 P.M., so he opened the door for her in the police cruiser and drove her to the station. There they found Rafael working at the small office he had claimed, and Karahalios bored out of his mind on his iPhone. John went straight ahead and knocked on McCall’s door.

“Stilinski?”

“We have a lead on our mummy.”

“Seneca already told me that you suspect him to be De La Plata, and that he was a hunter. Or do you mean on who killed him.”

“On who killed him. Mel?”

Melissa followed him into the room, but before John closed the door completely an idea struck his mind.

“Karahalios? Why don’t you come in, too?”

The kid didn’t even look up from his phone. He just stood up and walked in.

“Well? I assume you are here as the Mother of the Woods, Mel?”

“Actually, I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember when Scott was born? How I used to pray so he would get better?”

“Of course I do, those probably were the worst three weeks of my life. Why… no. Please tell me you are kidding me.”

“I am not.”

“Who was it? Who answered?”

“I did.”

Sebastiana was suddenly in the center of the room, occupying the space behind the chairs where John and Mel were seated. Rafael jumped back in surprise, while Karahalios finally looked up from his phone.

“Niña. Beautiful outfit. Much more demure than last night.”

“Carroñero. Well, I am a school teacher, I can’t allow my children to look at me like a call girl.” Melissa’s right eyebrow rose, and Sebastiana actually blushed at her. “What can I say, comadre, I’m still the saint patron of whores.”

“Why do you let him call you child?” John asked.

“Because I am older than she is.”

“Just this form, Seneca. Just this form.”

“Who are you?” Rafael panted, still trying to catch his breath, trying to realign the chair that had fell back.

“Oh, Rafe, did I scare you? You were always a jumpy little boy.”

“I repeat, who are you?”

“They call me the White Girl. The Lady of the Seven Wonders.  The Keeper of the Keys. The Rattler of the Bones. I am Skinny, Bony and Beautiful.” With each epithet, McCall’s eyes widened, but not in fear like John would’ve expected, but in wonder. “Tell me, Rafael, do you know who I am?”

“ _Santisima_.” Sebastiana smiled at him, satisfied.

“So they do teach you about gods and angels in that little academy of yours.”

“If a werewolf is real, if a ghost is real, why wouldn’t a god be? Aren’t you, after all, the manifestation of what we believe in?”

“A shame you are such an asshole, you were not _that_ bad for mi comadre. She moved up, though.” Sebastiana winked at John who smiled in return. Rafael’s visage sombered. Karahalios just chuckled.

“Comadre, please.”

“Why am I here?” Karahalios asked. “This is a family reunion, not a crime confession, unless…” He stopped, his mouth slack open at Sebastiana. “Outside the laws of men indeed,” he said, turning to John.

“What do you mean?” Rafael looked at the woman first, at the immortal second.

“What he means is that Sebastiana here was the one to… create the mummy that’s sitting on the morgue right now.” Melissa asked.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because he was a threat to my godson.”

“Your godson. _Scott’s your godson_?”

“I thought that was clear when I said I answered Melissa’s call.”

“She called for an angel to heal our son, not a goddess to take him under her wing.”

“Well, how could I say no? Melissa wanted him to live so much, I was not going to deny her.”

“If you are his godmother then why is he a werewolf?”

“Are you really going to lecture me on raising a child, Rafael?”

Even John could feel her gaze turn cold. Smirking, Karahalios told McCall to stop.

“Anyways,” Melissa countered, “Since Sebastiana sits outside the laws of men, we need you to build some sort of case or something.”

“Wait, back a bit - what do you mean he was a threat to Scott?”

“He was a hunter. One bent on finding out this town’s secrets.”

“We don’t kill preemptively, my Lady.” McCall answered. “We are not inside a dystopian novel.”

“Oh, but you are at war. The hunters are still looking for excuses to avenge dear old Gerard’s sickness, and since I can’t help in the judgement of my son I can at least take charge of the other things that would bother him.”

“What do you mean, we are at war?”

“Do you really think all the Argents are like Allison, comadre? Like Christopher?”

“No.” It had been Rafael who answered. “They see the supernatural as a threat that has to be wiped out of existence, even if they hide under their code of only killing those who hunt.”

“Have you had to deal with them before, Rafael?” Melissa asked her former husband.

“Several times. I’ve arrested some of them. They believe themselves, just like Karahalios said, outside the laws of men, so they won’t consider the real world implications of killing some of them. I still don’t understand why we weren’t here when the Hale fire happened - that’s right up our alley.”

“Because the case was neatly closed. I never considered calling the FBI.”

“Fair enough. Still, if Argents are coming into town, they will disrupt my work, and your work. They are not happy-go-lucky, they are happy-go-trigger.”

“Why are you still here, Rafe?” Melissa asked the agent. “I thought you had all you needed on the Warrens case.”

“There is something else I am investigating, and now we have the Patil case opened. We have a suspect now.”

“Who?”

“The girl’s mother.”

“What?” Both Melissa and John were surprised by that declaration. Sebastiana stepped back, and Karahalios looked at the scene flourishing in front of him.

“What do you mean the girl’s mother?”

“Why wasn’t I notified of this?”

“I just got evidence that she was in possession of a very peculiar set of daggers. Jade, and particularly sharp. She doesn’t remember how she acquired them. I just confiscated the set, and I am sending it for blood analysis.”

“Did you get a warrant?”

“Of course I did. I am not a novice. Though, _Santisima_ , you could save us a lot of time and tell us who did it.”

“I am not going to be doing your work, Rafael. If you excuse me, I shall go now. If you need me regarding the hunter, please tell mi comadre, she’ll get in touch.” The door of the office opened on its own and she walked out. Melissa immediately got up and followed her.

“John, I know we have our differences, but this is going to explode on us if we don’t work together.”

“We won’t interfere on your job, Rafael, if that’s what you mean. But it’s not up to me to decide if we’ll help you or not. Besides, we have our own deal of problems to deal with.”

“What?”

“Judgement, isn’t it?” Karahalios interrupted them, a feral smile on his lips. “The King has claimed the throne, and now he must prove he’s worthy of it, doesn’t he?”

“What are you talking about?”

John sighed, and started explaining the Nemeton situation to McCall. By the end of it, the man was livid.

“My son - MY SON IS WHAT?”

“Going to be judged. For resurrecting an old tree.”

“Karahalios, shut up. Yes, he is going to be judged. I…” John glanced back. Sebastiana was gone, but Melissa was on her cellphone. “I personally believe that’s why Sebastiana is here. Because she knows this is going to get really, really bad.”

“And you expect me to sit with my arms crossed?”

“Actually, you have to. You don’t belong to McCall, so that means you are an external party. Any help you provide can be seen as tampering. And you don’t want that - the consequences against those who do are… not fun.” Karahalios took his phone out and started tapping again, like he was on a game. “I’ve seen it before.”

“Any idea of what’s gonna happen?”

“No. But I can’t help but wonder, what will it be. It’s not like they would show up for a mere circus.”

“You know who’s coming?”

“Easy to deduce. Blood, after all, matters.”

“John? What’s he talking about?”

“Remember when we spoke yesterday, about the aztec god of war being around?”

“Yes.”

“He’s not the only one.”

“So the four of them? The four tezcatlipocas?”

“That’s what Sebastiana told us.”

“Well, fuck me.”

“I told you Rafe, I’ll do it if you want to.” Karahalios shrugged.

“Rafael, you can’t interfere. If you do, Scott’s life would be on the line.”

“Do not tell me what to do, Stilinski.”

“I’m telling you as the White Knight of these lands. I can come after you if you disobey.”

“Bring it.”

“And here I am, witnessing another pissing contest. Fun, fun, fun.”

At that moment Parrish entered the little office without knocking.

“Sheriff, we need you. There’s a riot happening at the school.”


	6. Erica

“So, why are you here, Mr. Argent?”

The book on her hand was about the vegetation typical of Northern California - the only thing that they knew about the Nemeton was that it was a huge assed oak, so she thought it wouldn’t hurt finding about its properties.

“I have some research to do on my own, Erica.”

“Why not do them at the house? We have the space. And you have your bestiary.”

“Let’s say that my particular interest right now can impact the pack, so I’d rather not raise any alarms.” Erica smiled at the way Mr. Argent clipped his words, trying to convey as little information as possible, but she had already glanced at the words on the spines of the books he was carrying. Irish mythology.

As long as it wasn’t another god, they should be alright. Problem was, the Irish had a buttload of gods.

Cora, for the first time, was not studying for the GED. She was helping Mr. Argent, actually - the only one who seemed to be interested in Algebra was her boyfriend.

“Why are you helping him, Cora?”

Cora shuffled her feet a little bit.

“Just because.”

“This is something big, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Boyd raised his head to look at them. Mr. Argent sighed and opened another book, avoiding eye contact.

“I believe that Sebastiana was trying to tell us something about Lydia. I don’t want to jump into conclusions, though, so that’s why I’m looking into it.”

“And since I’m the only one who knows about supernatural shit that won’t tell Scott, I’m helping.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to keep things from Scott? From the pack?”

“He’s already thinking too much about the judgement. You saw him yesterday, how scared he was of the idea of having summoned his godmother - if it weren’t because we ended up swapping stories and eating candy with her he’d still be worried about it.”

“And that’s what Lydia, Danny and Stiles will be focusing on. That means we need to focus on everything else. That way nothing will blindside us.”

“Cool. Need any help?”

“Actually,” Mr. Argent looked at the book on her hands, “checking on the Nemeton is probably one of the most excellent ideas I’ve heard in a while. We still don’t understand how does this sacred grove work, or why would gods be interested in it.”

“I thought they were interested in Scott.”

“But they came because of the Nemeton.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll keep reading on it.” Everybody looked at Boyd, like waiting for an input.

“What? Am I the only one actually interested in finishing a high school education?”

“Come on, help me up, honey. Let’s pretend it’s for Biology.”

She gave him another book on California’s vegetation and kept reading. It was a while before Cora’s cell phone chirped, indicating a text message.

“It’s Scott. He’s asking if I know anything about blood that can only be seen when he’s using his wolf eyes.”

“Do you?”

“No. Blood is blood, a bodily fluid. It has magical properties, yes, because it is the conduit of life, but it’s still physical. I’ve never heard of mystical blood.”

“Could it be another being’s blood?”

“Again, physical. If a being has blood is because it exists in this plane. For example, I wouldn’t expect Sebastiana to bleed if attacked.”

“What, bullets would go through her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Mr. Argent. She’s an angel, let’s assume they do.”

“I don’t understand that either.” Boyd mentioned off-handedly. “Mrs. McCall calls her the Angel of Death, the same as Scott. Peter calls her the Goddess of Death, the same as Lydia and Danny according to what they found.”

“She’s a syncretism.”

“A what?”

“A merge of ideas. Unlike the British settlers that decimated the native populations of the area, the Spanish Empire sought to convert all the remaining population to Catholicism.”

“Remaining?”

“There were still wars. Many. And of course, the shitload of diseases the Spanish brought with them.” Erica answered Boyd. He looked at her in awe. “What? I read.”

“So… she’s both?”

“Maybe. It depends on who believes in her, though.”

“What cultures are merged in her?”

“Aztec and Catholic. Maybe even others.”

“So… couldn’t she side with them? The four gods?”

“I don’t know. This form seems to be very fond of Scott.”

“Well, she’s his godmother.”

“And we still don’t know what that entails.”

Cora’s phone chirped again.

“Apparently the only one capable of seeing the blood all the time is Finstock. Is that the coach?”

“Yes, that’s him. Didn’t Lydia say he was a medium of sorts?”

“Then it’s what? Ectoplasm?”

“My few encounters with ghosts involved exorcisms mostly. I never had to deal with them in a more physical manner.”

“What about salt bullets?”

“As useful as silver ones: not at all.”

“What?”

“Salt only acts as a barrier when is, well, a closed barrier. Salt bullets only create a mess”

Boyd started typing on the computer they had about blood, while Chris opened his bestiary on his own computer. Cora went straight to a chapter in the Irish mythology book she had in her hands: The Goddess of War. Erica sighed, and returned to her own book, now opened in the chapter describing the genus of the oak family.

A third text message arrived to Cora’s phone.

“Something about buzzing…?”

“Is it related to the blood?”

“You know what, give me your phone.” Cora handed it to her and she stepped out of the library - she didn’t need to be told off at the moment. “Scott, your texts are not exactly helping, what’s going on?”

“It’s Finstock - he says he’s now seeing blood everywhere and he keeps hearing this weird buzzing in the school P.A. system.”

“Can you hear or see anything?”

“No. Danny can if he uses moonlight - and then Stiles can as well. I don’t want to be shining red in here, though, people are everywhere.”

“Can’t you go to a classroom or anything?”

“It’s not everywhere. We tried inside a classroom but there was nothing there.”

“So, according to Coach, where is it?”

“The hallways. Wait - Coach, what?”

“Scott, what’s going on?”

“Coach’s saying that he’s seeing the blood now dripping from the walls.”

“Fuck - what the fuck?”

“I’m gonna go - try and find something, please! Huey! Dewey! You gotta get out of here!”

“Who’s that?”

But Scott had hung up. Erica sprinted towards their desk.

“Something’s going on at the school. Apparently Coach is seeing blood dripping out - not just there, but actually flowing.”

“That’s gross.”

“We need to help.”

“We can’t go - we’ll be seen.”

“I know! Argh - this is frustrating!”

“Erica, slow down. We can be of help if we have information they can use.”

“I’m not a researcher.”

“I thought you were a reader.”

“How the fuck is talking about oaks going to help them right now?”

“What did Scott say?”

“Not much - just that Coach was losing it - he started shouting the new kids names, like they were in trouble.”

“The… what were they called? Carvallos?”

“Yeah, those. Wait - what?”

“Carvallos? I thought that was their last name.”

Erica grabbed her nature book and started flipping the pages.

“Cherie?” Boyd used her pet name in an attempt to get her attention. “Did you find something?”

“Quercus from the Mediterranean region were called Robles by the Spaniards, Carvalhos by the Portuguese, and Carvallos by the Galician. Due to their prominence in the northwest region of the Iberian Peninsula, it became common in the presence of surnames and coats of arms.”

“What do you mean, Erica?”

“It’s them. They are the gods. It’s a fake name.”

“But aren’t they supposed to be from Mexico?” Cora asked.

“Spanish Invasion, hello? Lots of people ended up baptized and had to retake a new name - why not take one that directly relates you to what you are looking for?”

“The Nemeton.” Chris agreed.

“Big assed oak. Big assed _roble_.”

“But I thought they were supposed to be four?” Cora asked again.

“That I don’t know. What are you waiting for? Go, go - GO!” Cora and Chris left the library running while both Boyd and Erica tried their phones.

Nobody picked up.

 

 


	7. Scott

“Coach!”

Scott ran after him - he was on his knees, clutching his head with his hands, like he was trying to drown some sound or something.

“It’s buzzing. Don’t you hear the buzzing?”

“No - Coach, get up, we need to take you to the infirmary.”

“They buzz - they buzz.” Scott was able to raise him up and they started walking towards the infirmary. He nodded his head to Stiles and Danny who cocked their heads, as if they were trying to hear something. Isaac did, too, but he shook his head a second later.

“Go - we’ll investigate.” Allison whispered to him.

“Lydia, you’re with me. You four alright on your own?” They all nodded and he started walking Coach. He used his free hand to text Cora again - she said she didn’t know anything about blood that could only be seen with werewolf eyes. Derek didn’t know either - he said he was coming as soon as he finished at the Academy.

“Coach?”

“I’m fine, it’s just - my ears…” The grimace on Coach’s face looked anything but fine. Scott could tell it was distressing him too much - he was barely walking properly, dragging his feet.

“Coach? What kind of buzzing are you hearing?” Lydia had been quiet and she even asked the question in a low voice, like she was scared of setting him off.

“Just, buzzing, this bzzzzzzttttt that is coming from all the electric equipment.”

“Like bees?”

“No. Not like bees. Like wings.”

“Wings?”

“Yeah, wings! Like - “

“Hummingbirds.” Lydia finished for him, biting her lip. “Scott - it’s one of the gods.”

“The god of war?”

“Exactly.”

“Wait - gods? What gods?” Coach’s buzzing didn’t prevent him from listening to their conversation, apparently.

“We are going to be judged.”

“On the Nemeton?”

“Yeah.”

“Who’s gonna judge you?”

“Four gods, that are brothers and are always together. Will, Agriculture, Knowledge, Beauty.”

“And they are also the gods of War, Disease, Disaster and Chaos.”

“Wait, you are going to be judged by the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”

“Not that pantheon, Coach. Not even close.”

“The hell?”

“Coach, doesn’t matter. You are not involved in this and we won’t drag you into it.”

“But what if it affects the students?”

“How it would?”

Coach didn’t say anything until they reached the infirmary. Nurse Johnson received him immediately and started checking in on him, even if Coach couldn’t tell her that he was the only one hearing stuff.

“What’s wrong with Coach?”

“Hey Louie! You alright?”

“Nah, a problem with my medication.” He shrugged. “It’s one of the aftermaths of the surgery. The doctor didn’t expect to have that many problems, but each case is unique, I guess. Besides, I’m going home as soon as my brother comes from wherever the hell he went driving today.”

“Your brother?”

“Teo. He’s older, he’s not in college, he just fucks up. Mom and Dad let him live with us as long as he is on call all the time, you know, in case something happens, but he loves driving his cabriolet. He’s probably half way back from the Preserve right now - Huey said he did catch him.”

“We haven’t met him?”

‘Nah - he feels too entitled to speak to teenagers. But that’s Teo to you. What’s up with Coach?”

“Migraines.” Lydia answered as Huey came through the door.

“Hey guys! Louie, Teo’s on his way, wanna still wait here or wanna get something from the machines and get out?”

“I’d rather go out. Mrs. Johnson?” The nurse raised a finger, since she was shining a pen light on Coach’s eyes, and it wasn’t until she wrote down his pupils’ behavior that she turned to them. She approved their departure and also sent Coach away with a bottle of Advil. They followed him.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to find out. I don’t want to see the students affected.”

“How would it affect them?”

“Well, there’s blood on the walls now.” Coach said with a straight face.

“What?”

“Seriously, McCall, use your powers!”

“I don’t want to look like a streetlight!” He saw the classroom on his right empty. “In there.” He and Coach walked in, Lydia closed the door behind her. He immediately summoned the wolf out, feeling his sight increase the frequency of wavelengths it could distinguish.

“I am not getting used to see you two like that.”

“Like what?”

“You don’t see?”

“Coach, what I’m not seeing is blood.”

“There’s none in here. Do you hear the buzzing?”

Faintly, it was there. In the background.

“Hummingbirds.”

“Where does the sound come from?”

“The speakers. Lydia, can’t you hear it?”

Lydia shook her head. But then she cocked it.

“Was that a crash?”

Scott had heard it too - like someone had slammed against a door. His cellphone rang.

“Erica?” He started explaining what was going on as they were getting out. The source of the noise seemed to be from the cafeteria.

“Oh my god - STOP! ALL OF YOU, STOP!”

Nobody paid attention to Finstock.

Plates were flying, trays were used as shields, plastic forks made up for tridents and knives for swords.

They were fighting, all of them.

“Scott! Look out!” Scott stepped back barely avoiding a chair. On the other side of the room, he saw Huey and Louie trying to run for cover, but a freshman was heading straight to them.

“Huey, Louie! You gotta get out of there!” He threw his phone away and jumped after the kid, managing to knock him out of the way. “Go!” The brothers barely nodded at him and started running, though Louie had to put his hand on his side, his shirt turning red. He saw Huey standing next to the door and motioning them out. Scott wondered for a second why they were not affected by whatever was causing the riot but a lunch tray hit him right in the face. Reflectively, he hit back, knocking out a member of the swim team.

“Sorry Percy! Lydia! You alright?” He yelled across the room - he knew she’d heard him.

“Yeah!”

He wanted to howl for his pack but didn’t want to attract any attention. Luckily, all four of them appeared next to Lydia right there.

“We gotta stop them?”

“How?”

Danny went to the fire alarm and crashed it with his elbow, starting the sprinklers. Everything calmed down for a second.

Then, it got worse.

“Holy shit!”

It was as if the water was giving everyone more energy to fight. Scott tried to reach his pack but the cafeteria room became impossible to navigate. He ended up knocking out three students and one teacher, while Allison knocked about ten. Even Stiles ended up punching people.

“Madrina! Help!”

“Sorry Scott. This is all on you.” Sebastiana had appeared right behind them, but her somber expression matched Scott’s mood.

“What? Why?” Stiles yelled.

“Judgement.”

“This is it?”

“Just a trial, but it is on you.”

“Any help?”

“Look at your own strengths, m’hijo. All of them.” She didn’t disappear, but her dismissal was evident.

Alright, look at his strengths.

He had the strength, he had the eyes, he had the quick healing. None of that seemed to help with what was going on. They moved onto the hallways - the fights continued there.

“This looks like that scene from Mean Girls.” Stiles commented.

“Might be worse.” Isaac agreed.

“Scott, she said look into your strengths. What strengths do you have?”

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking.”

“Think faster, McCall!” Danny only used his last name when he was angry at him.

They kept moving, avoiding staying in one place so none of the rioters would focus on them and attack them. Allison and Isaac were doing most of the defense - Scott wanted to help but they made their point. He needed to _think_.

_Look at your own strengths._

He’d never been strong. He had Stiles his whole life, and then Allison, and then Isaac, and Lydia, and -

_His pack._

“Guys, it’s you. You are my strength!”

“Yeah, well, how do we stop this?” Stiles voice was in a higher pitch than usual.

“We need to think what’s causing this. What’s different from usual.”

“The blood?” Danny said

“The buzzing?” Allison offered. “Those are the things that coach mentioned.”

“But we can’t hear the buzzing! They shouldn’t be hearing it too!”

“Maybe not consciously?” Isaac suggested.

“Then we need them not to hear. We need to drown the sound.”

Everybody looked at Lydia, who nodded. She closed her eyes and drew breath.

The wail was shrill, but even if it hurt Scott’s ears, nothing changed.

“What now?”

 _Use your strengths._ Scott kept repeating what Sebastiana told him.

 _Use your powers, McCall_. He could hear Coach yelling at him.

“We try again. Hold on one second.”

Scott closed his eyes, and went deep inside his heart, where he could feel the connection to the Nemeton. When he opened them, he knew they were red.

As red as the walls. Dripping blood.

He could see what Coach had mentioned. His clothes were not his own - none of his pack looked like usual. But he didn’t have time to think about that.

A window shattered somewhere in the background. He needed to hurry.

“Lydia, grab my hands.”

She did, and he could feel the connection - the power flowing between them. He felt the air enter her lungs.

When she opened her eyes, they were impossible green.

When she opened her mouth, the shrill was impossibly loud.

He could feel glasses shattering, doors busting out of their frames, sheets of paper flying around. He could see those who were not part of his pack covering their ears, falling on their knees, unconsciousness stopping them from hurting each other. When Lydia was done, there was no conscious person on the school.

Except for the pair of boots he could hear coming down the hallway.

“Scott!”

“Cora. Mr. Argent.”

“We came as soon as possible. Erica thinks the Carvallo kids are the gods.”

“What?”

“Why?” Stiles asked.

“Carvallo means oak in Spanish.”

Scott started running towards the parking lot, his pack in tow.

When they got to the front door, they saw a cabriolet reaching the half-moon where parents could drop and pick up their kids. Huey, Louie and Dewey walked down to it.

“Get in.”

A black man with dark sunglasses was driving. Louie and Dewey got into the car immediately, getting in the back. Huey, however, took off his jacket before doing so.

As his arms got bare, Scott saw what looked to be thousands of hummingbirds made of light fly from the school towards him, entering his skin and becoming ink in his arms. By the time he turned to smile at them, his arms had swarms of the birds tattooed in them, still moving on the surface. He raised his hand in a mock military salute.

“Huitzilopochtli at your service, Scott McCall.”

Before Scott could answer him, the car was gone.

 

 


	8. Epilogue

"Was that really necessary?"

"They already knew. I just confirmed it to them. They found out what we chose as our last name."

The three teenagers were pacing around a dark table, where a feast was set up. At the head, a man with eyes green as the bottom of lakes was eating. The other places were set up but completely ignored.

"We were supposed to remain hidden as much as possible. It's easier to see what they truly are when they don't know they are observed. Thanks. At least, so far they've done a decent job."

"I wouldn't call decent what they did with the hunter, though."

"That was not them."

"Still, she did it for him."

"Shut it. They are doing a decent job. He realized the Queen could break the spell almost immediately." The third teen interrupted the other two, taking his place at the table right of the man. The kid with hummingbird tattoos on his arm sneered, but sat next to him. The remaining chair was taken by the last teenager.

Only the man's cutlery would move over the food.

"Now we need to change strategies. We haven't tested them thoroughly."

"We haven't tested them, period. A sacrifice? That's nothing. A school riot? Pfft."

"You saw how high he values human life. It was a test in itself."

"Nothing in the scope of things."

"But a lot to the mind of a teenager. Remember that he is young." The youngest interrupted again. He started to eat, but blood dripped from his wrists, staining the white tablecloth. "Shit."

"You are weak. You haven't fed." The man interrupted his eating to address the young at his right without looking at him.

"Of course I haven't. I'm not gonna go around flaying people alive for my own sake."

"Why not? It's what you require."

"It's frowned upon in these lands."

They kept eating as if nothing had happened, even if the blood kept staining the tablecloth. At some point, the skin on the boy's wrist started peeling down.

"You need to feed."

"And I said I won't. We had your little trick - that gave us enough power."

"Most of it didn't go to you though. It went to your brother." The man raised his eyes to the hummingbirds that were moving along the teenager's arms, who looked to the one on his left, guilt etched in his face.

"Don't worry about it." The bleeding teen told his brother. "It's not like you did the sacrifice."

"You need to feed. Stop acting like a petulant child and take what you need."

"I said no."

"Then I'll do it myself." The ghost of a grin took over the man's lips.

"Don't you dare."

The man raised his eyes to his front, where a woman dressed in black had appeared. All the teenagers looked at her - the one with the tattoos had to turn completely and support his arm on the back of the chair.

"My lady. Would you break bread and salt with us?"

"No, I won't. I do not feast on human flesh in this form."

"That is true. I apologize."

"What are you doing here?" The hummingbirds had escaped into the teen's shirt.

"Don't be insolent. My lady, I apologize for his behavior."

"It's not him who should apologize."

"Are you accusing me of something?"

"I am warning you. I won't tolerate tasteless sacrifice in these lands."

"You are bound not to interfere, my lady. That's the price you must pay for having a conflict of interest in these matters."

"It's not interfering if I am trying to keep my books balanced."

"Aren't those books supposed to account for our actions?"

"Not if their true purpose is your amusement."

"My lady, I can assure you it's not for amusement why I am here. I do not relish in being awoken from my slumber."

"Tezcatlipoca!" The young one at the older man's left slammed his fist on the table, and everybody's heads turned to him. The man even tilted his, acknowledging the name. "Stop acting like a child."

"Unlike you, _brother_ , I chose the form of a man."

"Masks you may wear, but you still behave like a petulant tot."

"Says the one who cannot stop being in love with the reincarnation of a critter."

" _Behave_." Everybody felt the wave of power imprinted in the word, straightening the hairs on their necks. The man shook his head in disgust and proceeded to keep with his meal. The teen looked at the woman. "I apologize, my lady, for his behavior."

"As long as you do what you are here to do, and nothing else."

"You do need to understand, that our ways will clash with the way he was raised. After all, his family forgot about us."

"His family didn't even know about you. They barely knew about me, and I was no more than dream and chimaera. It's not his fault he doesn't know your ways."

"It won't limit us either."

"Very well."

"Do we have your word you won't interfere?"

"You have my word, as long as you do what you are supposed to do, and no more. Remember, everything dies."

The young man with the bleeding wrists looked down at his clothes, blood seeping through them as if he was leaking everywhere. "Even us."

"Even you. _Especially_ you."

 

 


End file.
